Running Red Lights
by thevanitymonster
Summary: AU. They were a head-on collision waiting to happen. —Itachi/Deidara


**Title: **Running Red Lights**  
Summary: **AU. They were a head-on collision waiting to happen. —Itachi/Deidara**  
Notes:** First of all, I'd like to give an extra special thanks to Slinkymilinky. Not only did she beta this and encourage me along the way, but she was also a huge inspiration to me. If you haven't read her fic, Burning Paper Cranes, you totally should. I'd also like to thank Micah, Rachel, Mel, and Cat, who cheered me on throughout the entire thing. I probably wouldn't have had the motivation to finish this pain-in-the-ass fic without them.  
**Disclaimer:** Naruto and all related characters are property of Masashi Kishimoto.

* * *

He was on his way to Shisui's wedding when he found him.

Itachi eased his foot onto the brake when the blond male came into view, his thumb jerked sideways in a typical hitchhiker fashion from his spot on the side of the road. Normally, Itachi would have continued on his way without sparing the man a second glance, but a distinct sense of recognition overruled his good sense and forced him to pull over, if only to satisfy his curiosity.

That, or he was simply too kind to leave the man standing there for what he knew would be a lengthy amount of time.

Whatever the reason, it was a decision that Itachi soon regretted when the now-painfully familiar blond approached the car, a look of utter distaste on his face when he saw just who it was that sat in the driver's seat.

Then again, Deidara had always had a habit of making such expressions whenever he was in Itachi's presence. Itachi supposed that some things never changed.

"Are you kidding me?" Deidara said once the window had been rolled down, his black-rimmed eyes narrowed darkly. "Of all the people who could have stopped, it had to be _you_?"

Itachi could already tell that stopping had been a huge mistake on his part. The rational part of him wanted to simply drive away in order to avoid the imminent conflict, but, as it always did, politeness and a nagging sense of guilt won out, keeping him in place as he eyed the other with an expression of feigned indifference.

"Is there anywhere in particular you would like to go?" Itachi asked, his voice betraying none of his desire to simply leave the man here and move on.

Deidara appeared to be having an inner conflict between his opinionated and rational sides: Either he could get in the car with the man he hated, or wait for what would probably be hours for another willing driver to show up, if any at all would.

Apparently—and much to Itachi's dismay—his rational side won out and Deidara let out a frustrated sigh before opening the door and sliding into the passenger seat, sending his luggage into the back without so much as a glance to see if he would be crushing any of Itachi's belongings.

"It doesn't matter to me," Deidara answered irritably, slamming the door shut and earning a disapproving look from the man beside him. "I'll just go wherever you're headed, yeah."

Itachi simply nodded as he shifted the vehicle into drive, deciding that silence would probably be the safest option for the time being. He didn't particularly like the idea of driving for hours with Deidara, but if he could avoid conflict, hopefully it would at least be bearable.

When the silence between them shifted from tolerable to strained, Itachi reached over and switched on the radio. The sound of soft, soothing classical music immediately filled the confines of the car, slightly easing the tension that had entered the vehicle along with Deidara.

The tranquility was short-lived, however, as a noise of disapproval escaped the other's lips, and Itachi was quite certain that he saw Deidara roll his eyes in his peripheral vision.

"This is what you call road trip music?" the blond scoffed, reaching for the radio dial and switching it to a hard rock station. "I see your taste is as bad as ever, yeah."

The change of genre was an unwelcome one, and Itachi had to resist the pained expression that threatened to surface as the vehicle was filled with the lead singer's (if he could be called that) screams. It sounded like something Sasuke would enjoy and wasn't suited to Itachi's tastes in the least.

He quickly switched off the radio, earning him an unintelligible but sarcastic-sounding mutter from the man beside him.

Itachi could already tell that this was going to be a long trip.

* * *

Deidara was starting to wonder if the universe had it out for him.

He had only wanted to go on an adventure, to see the country with the companionship of strangers and to appreciate whatever artistic landscape happened to pass them by on their seemingly endless journey. He had expected spontaneity and inspiration and getting lost a few times before getting back on the right road, then sleeping for a few hours in the vehicle before getting up and doing it all over again the next day.

What he _hadn't_ counted on was bumming a horribly _predictable_ ride with the double-crossing bastard of a man known as Itachi Uchiha.

Fate really was a bitch.

"So, what's Akatsuki's prodigy-turned-traitor doing so far from home?" Deidara asked maliciously, because resentment was the only thing he had even known when it came to Itachi.

"I'm going to my best friend's wedding," the other man answered after a moment's hesitation—during which he hopefully felt a stab of guilt for what he had done to the Akatsuki. "He's getting married the day after tomorrow. The location is a few hundred miles away from our current position."

A few hundred miles? Damn it. It looked like he would be stuck with this insufferable prick at least until tomorrow, then. Deidara scowled, feet resting on the dashboard and sketchpad propped up against one leg. He wasn't drawing anything in particular right now—mostly doodles—but he had to resist the very tempting urge to start drawing various scenes in which Itachi was being brutally maimed.

"Deidara."

The way the blond's name rolled off of Itachi's tongue sounded foreign and grated on Deidara's nerves (_everything_ Itachi did grated on his nerves), breaking his concentration and causing him to frown before turning his attention toward the other man.

"What?"

"Please refrain from placing your feet on my dashboard. I just had it repaired recently because my brother had the same unfortunate habit."

In response, Deidara sent him a surly look and shifted his legs into a more comfortable position on the dash, just to spite him.

"Must you make this more difficult than it needs to be?" Itachi asked, a trace of tiredness slipping through that endlessly annoying monotone of his. "We still have several more hours to spend together. The least you could do is try to behave yourself."

"And why the hell would I want to do that?" Deidara asked, eyebrows furrowed.

"Because it would make things much simpler for the both of us."

"Well, you know me," Deidara replied, turning back to his sketchpad. "I've never exactly been the simple type of guy, yeah."

"Clearly."

* * *

Their first stop came as an immense relief to Itachi, who hopped out of the car as quickly as he could (he made sure to take the keys with him, as he had already made one mistake too many today) without making it blatantly obvious that he had no desire to remain in the same vehicle as Deidara for more time than was necessary.

Sometimes Itachi wondered if Sasuke had been right in saying that he was too polite for his own good.

As he filled the tank with gasoline, Itachi could feel Deidara watching him from the rearview mirror, and a quick glance in that direction confirmed his suspicions. However, it wasn't Itachi himself that Deidara's gaze was trained on. Rather, it was the nozzle in his hand that was the object of longing, mischievous azure eyes. Itachi supposed he shouldn't have been surprised, as explosives had always been the man's specialty.

Though he wasn't fond of using his credit card for anything other than emergencies, he decided to make an exception and used it to pay at the pump, just to be on the safe side.

When he re-entered the car a few minutes later, Deidara immediately jumped down his throat in a manner which was not unfamiliar to Itachi, but still rather exhausting to deal with. He sorely doubted he would ever feel otherwise.

"Took you long enough."

"I don't control the speeds at which the pumps work, Deidara," Itachi replied calmly as he shifted into drive, keeping his foot on the brake. "Are you certain that you don't require anything from the convenience store? Our next stop won't be for quite some time."

"I already told you that I've got everything I need," the blond snapped, jerking a thumb in the direction of his suitcase. "Let's just get out of this shithole already, yeah."

"Suit yourself," Itachi said, tiredness once again creeping into his voice as he drove out of the parking lot. He didn't have the energy to deal with Deidara's seemingly insatiable habit of being as difficult as possible, and he certainly wasn't going to try arguing with him.

They hadn't even gotten off the exit ramp before Deidara spoke up again.

"Nagato and Konan got hitched last year."

At this, Itachi let out a small sigh. It seemed that the other man was intent on bringing up the Akatsuki—as well as Itachi's betrayal of it. His parents' lives had been taken by the hands of a gang; he had simply felt the need to avenge them in some way. It had never been anything personal.

However, _everything_ was personal when it came to Deidara, who hadn't liked Itachi from the moment he'd laid eyes on him.

"Is that right? I can't say that I'm surprised. They seemed rather close from what I can remember."

Apparently, that had been the wrong thing to say (as if _anything_ he said could ever be seen as right in the other man's eyes).

"'From what you can remember'?" Deidara repeated scornfully. "Guess you don't remember a lot then, huh? Not that that's surprising, considering how easy it was for you to rat us out after. You probably don't even care that Hidan's still in jail, yeah."

Of course Itachi felt slightly guilty for what he had done (though not so much about Hidan, who had been a convicted murderer and therefore deserved his sentence), but at this point, it wouldn't matter what he tried to tell Deidara. Attempting to change his opinion about Itachi would be like trying to convert a brick wall to Christianity.

So instead he did the easiest thing and remained silent.

However, he should have known that such a tactic would never work on Deidara. The younger of the two had always been insistent to make everything a battle between them and had—of course—been the one to initiate all of them. It was the same even now, with Deidara as the instigator and Itachi the unwilling participant, remaining as unresponsive as possible in order to put a stop to their senseless arguments. And when he ignored the other man completely, Deidara would become indignant (and sometimes violent) and the cycle would continue in an infinite loop.

Itachi supposed that old habits died hard, and old grudges even harder.

"Are you _ignoring_ me, Uchiha?"

And the cycle continued.

"I'm listening," Itachi answered. Surprisingly enough, it was an adequate response for Deidara, who didn't have a retort for once and immediately launched into the next question.

"So, has your bastard of a brother gotten hit by a bus yet?"

Itachi took a deep breath to replenish his slowly diminishing amount of patience.

"No, Sasuke is still very much alive and well," he replied coolly, onyx eyes still glued to the road in front of him. No matter what Deidara said, Itachi, being the pacifist he was, would always try to continue the cycle of indifference so as not to encourage the other.

He just hoped that his efforts would pay off one day.

(In all honesty, he wasn't sure why he bothered putting in any effort at all when it would be infinitely easier to just leave Deidara on the side of the road. He supposed that this must be an old habit as well, one that was as deeply integrated into their erratic relationship as the rest were.)

"That's too bad," Deidara said, and Itachi could see an expression of mock-disappointment in his peripheral vision. "He's even more of an asshole than you are, yeah."

"Regardless of what you might think of my brother, I would appreciate it if you didn't speak of him in that manner."

"Oh?" Itachi could practically _see_ the smugness in the younger man's tone. "Did I hit a nerve, Itachi?"

"Deidara." The raven-haired man's voice was tired, just as it had been for the entire duration of the trip. Tired, and slowly bordering on impatient. "Why do you insist on doing nothing but provoke me?"

"Because I hate you, yeah."

"So why not obtain a ride from someone else?"

"Because no one else is stupid enough to pick up a hitchhiker."

Itachi had nothing to say after that.

* * *

Deidara hated him.

From the day that he had set foot into the Akatsuki and was subjected to Itachi's utter _brilliance_ (according to the other members, because he wasn't that great if you asked Deidara), he had loathed him. Everything Itachi had done had been so damn _perfect_ and untouchable and had completely overshadowed Deidara's own skills, as much as he hated to admit it.

(There were a lot of things he hated to admit when it came to Itachi.)

When the older man had betrayed the gang, part of Deidara had been thrilled to have even more of a reason to hate the bastard, the one who had looked at his homemade bombs with distaste and his art with little more than indifference. His hatred was like a drug, really, one that he couldn't get enough of.

Shoving his hands into his pockets irritably, Deidara sent a surly, longing look at the gas pumps outside (Itachi had made him come into the convenience store out of fear that he'd blow something up). All it would take is one flick of his lighter, and _bam_—the place would go up in beautiful orange flames and become nothing but a memory, along with this disaster of a trip.

It was tempting. Very tempting.

With effort, Deidara managed to tear his gaze from the window and turn it to the reason he was in this mess in the first place. Itachi stood at the counter, his perfect hair framing his perfect face as he paid for the gas and a bottle of water, which was held in his perfect hand.

Deidara wanted to take all of that perfection and _break_ it.

Azure eyes watched as Itachi made his way toward where Deidara stood, taking in the way he carried himself, the way he walked, the way his ponytail slipped down and brushed against his neck—

"Are you finished?" Itachi asked when he had reached the door, breaking Deidara's trance.

"You're the one who made me come in here," Deidara reminded him, arms crossed over his chest. "Let's go, yeah."

Yes, he hated him, Deidara thought again as he followed Itachi to the car, though his inner assessment was much more vehement this time. Because when he hated him, it was much easier to tell whether he wanted to wrap his fingers around that perfect neck or put his lips all over it.

* * *

The tension was thick when they arrived at the hotel that evening.

(They were only getting a hotel because Itachi was too much of a priss to sleep in the car, and Deidara was only complying because Itachi refused to let him sleep in the vehicle alone, probably out of fear that the blond would hot-wire and steal it.

Little did he know that the older man was seriously contemplating letting him sleep in it anyway.)

Deidara tossed his luggage onto one of the double beds and immediately dug into it, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He practically tore through the packaging just to bring the nicotine stick to his lips before promptly lighting it. The smoke was an alleviation for his habit, but did nothing to ease his inner rage.

"Deidara," came the slightly strained voice from the other side of the room, where its owner was currently sorting through his own suitcase. "This is a non-smoking room."

The blond turned to face him, eyes narrowed and cigarette held between his teeth as he spoke. "What's your point?"

"My point," Itachi said firmly, "is that you should go outside if you wish to smoke. I would rather not have to pay a fee for your negligence of the rules."

"And I'd rather not have to travel around with a bastard like you, but we can't all have what we want, yeah," Deidara retorted, his irritability evident in his tone as he glared at the man standing several feet away from him. Who the hell did he think he was, trying to tell Deidara what to do?

Oh, that was right.

Itachi fucking _Uchiha_.

"I don't recall ever stating that you were obliged to come with me. You entered the car and remained with me through the duration of the trip on your own volition."

"Who said you had to pick me up? If you think about it, it's all _your_ fault for stopping in the first place, yeah!"

"That's a terrible argument, and you know it," Itachi said in a berating tone that made Deidara's fists clench at his sides angrily. "You may blame me all you like, but in the end, it's you who is at fault in this."

"You know, this is what I've always hated about you!" Deidara said, voice rising as he took a few menacing steps toward Itachi. "You always have to act so damn _superior_, don't you, Itachi?"

"Am I the one acting superior?" the other asked coolly, face held in its usual indifferent façade despite their now-close proximity. "Or is it that you that cannot accept your own shortcomings? In the end, you detest me not because of my supposed superiority complex, but because you're unable to come to terms with the fact that you have several areas in which you are inadequ—"

Itachi's speech was cut off when Deidara sent a fist flying in his direction, striking him directly in the jaw and sending him stumbling a few steps backward in his momentary loss of focus.

"Shut up!" Deidara shouted, voice filled with rage as he glared viciously at Itachi. Adrenaline pulsed through his veins, urging him to continue indulging in his fury and punch this bastard's stupid, perfect face in and utterly _break_ him. "Shut up!"

He lunged for Itachi again, but the other male was prepared this time and easily dodged it. Obsidian eyes narrowed marginally before he countered with a blow of his own to Deidara's stomach, momentarily knocking the wind out of him. It took Deidara a moment to recover, but he quickly retaliated with another well-aimed punch which Itachi was only narrowly able to evade this time. The pair continued exchanging several more blows, but Itachi, being the more skilled fighter, clearly had the upper hand in this fight. Deidara could hardly land a hit on him and was constantly struck by the other man's defensive blows, which only further fueled his temper and competitive nature.

Out of pure frustration, Deidara reached for the lamp on the bedside table and launched it at Itachi, who evaded it and let it shatter against the wall behind him.

"Has anyone ever informed you of just how childish you truly are?" Itachi asked, fixing Deidara with a disapproving glare. "I hope you know that you're paying for that."

"'Childish?'" Deidara repeated indignantly, lunging for the man once again. "'Childish?' I'll show _you_ childish!"

He and Itachi were only inches apart as they tried to keep each other at bay, and Deidara used his free hand to impatiently wipe at the blood trickling down his lip, teeth gritted as he struggled against Itachi's strength.

"So much for always being in control of yourself, huh, Itachi?" he ground out scornfully, earning him slightly widened eyes and an almost stricken look from the man in question. Using Itachi's apparent dismay as an opening, Deidara seized the opportunity and slammed him against the wall before proceeding to restrain him in that very spot, hands firmly gripping bony wrists as he used his weight to keep the other from moving.

"Release me," Itachi ordered, eyes narrowed and breathing slightly labored from their scuffle.

"Not a chance, yeah," Deidara replied, his own breaths coming out with difficulty. He could feel the sweat-slicked joints in his grasp and the warmth radiating from Itachi's body as blue met onyx in a defiant glare. At this distance, Deidara was very much aware of the chest heaving only inches away from his own and the hot breath tickling his skin, making it difficult for him to concentrate on standing upright, much less keeping the other against the wall.

Sending him a warning look from under long lashes—obscenely long for a man, Deidara noted almost breathlessly—Itachi calmly and firmly pushed against the blond's restraining grip, causing Deidara to slide back a fraction of an inch on the carpeted floor. Itachi was clearly stronger than him; it wouldn't take long for him to break free. Despite this, however, Deidara forcefully pressed the length of his body against Itachi's in order to keep him rooted there.

Itachi continued to struggle, and Deidara could feel well-defined abdominal muscles tensing against his own, causing his breath to hitch and eyes to screw shut momentarily as a wave of desire washed over him. Black-rimmed eyes swept over Itachi's neck again, and he mentally traced a path all the way up the other's throat, his jawline, his _lips_—

"Stop looking at me like that," Itachi demanded, but Deidara didn't miss the way the other's voice faltered or how his own dark, half-lidded eyes appeared as though they were struggling to keep eye contact and not roam downward.

"Like I said before," Deidara ground out, his mouth hovering just inches away from Itachi's, "not a chance."

Their lips collided almost painfully, Deidara's hold on Itachi forgotten as his hands slid down to grip the fabric of his shirt. He felt Itachi recoil slightly as Deidara thrust his tongue forward, but he quickly recovered and allowed the blond into his mouth, probing almost curiously at Deidara's tongue ring before returning the kiss with equal intensity.

Deidara's fingertips dug into Itachi's ribcage, gliding downward over his abdominal muscles and to his hip bones, causing the other man's breath to hitch marginally. Itachi responded by tangling his own fingers through long blond locks without once breaking contact with Deidara's lips and tongue.

For a few brief moments, tongues continued to intertwine with equal intensity and hands roamed freely, feeling over shoulders and chests and exposed arm muscles, and _God_, did Deidara still hate him.

He slid a hand up Itachi's shirt, a needy moan escaping his lips before he could stop it.

And just like that, everything ended.

Itachi forcefully pushed him away, very nearly causing Deidara to fall backwards onto the floor from the sudden action. Itachi's breathing was heavy and his face faintly colored in a combination of arousal and shame, though the latter was more obvious.

"What the hell?" Deidara managed to get out through his own erratic breathing, glaring hard at the man in front of him.

"I could say the same to you," Itachi replied, finally beginning to compose himself—much to the blond's irritation. "For one who claims to detest me so much, you certainly have an interesting method of showing it."

"I do hate you, yeah!"

"Clearly."

There was a note of cold finality in Itachi's tone, suggesting that he was in no mood to continue debating it. Deidara looked up into onyx eyes in search of something, _anything_, but the perfect mask was already back in place and Itachi appeared as impassive as ever.

With a noise of disgust, Deidara turned and sauntered back to his side of the room, hands reaching for the carton of cigarettes he had dug around for just minutes ago. Judging by the sounds on the other side of the room, Itachi had returned to sorting through his suitcase like nothing had even happened.

Out of spite, Deidara brought another cigarette to his lips and turned his back to the man standing on the other side of the room.

This time, Itachi said nothing about it.

"I hate you," Deidara muttered, more for his own benefit than anything else.

* * *

When Itachi awoke the next morning, Deidara was gone.

A quick sweep of the hotel room revealed all he needed to know. The other bed was in disarray from use, but none of the other man's belongings were present. Itachi even checked the car and the perimeter of the building, but there were no signs of Deidara whatsoever.

Itachi wasn't sure whether to be relieved or concerned. Surprise, however, was not an emotion he was currently dealing with. To be honest, he had been half-expecting to wake up to this very scene. Deidara had always been a flight risk; it had only been a matter of time before his intolerance caused him to find another means of travel. It was nothing out of the ordinary.

Deciding that he'd contemplated on it long enough (he wasn't even sure why he'd had to think about it in the first place. Deidara wasn't his concern), Itachi got into his car and drove off, eyes habitually glued to the road in front of him.

The silence was deafening.

* * *

The marriage ceremony had been carried out smoothly. Despite his slight aversion to standing in front of crowds, Itachi had fulfilled his role as best man. In the end, it was a position that he'd been glad to have accepted, as it had given him a perfect view of Shisui's marriage to the woman he loved. It had been beautiful. More importantly, it had been a distraction.

Now that he was at the reception, however, his mind had time to venture into places he would rather not re-visit.

Images of last night flooded into Itachi's brain, causing his face to color in shame at his behavior. He had always prided himself on his ability to remain composed, regardless of circumstance. He had dealt with much more trying situations and had reacted much better, but it seemed that Deidara simply knew how to press all the correct buttons to make him lose his composure in more ways than one.

With a soft sigh, Itachi turned his attention to his newlywed cousin, who was currently on the dance floor with his wife. They spun and twirled, laughter in their eyes and on their lips, and Itachi felt a bit guilty for not being more celebratory. It was Shisui's big day, after all, and Itachi was spending it in reflective solitude.

Onyx eyes continued to scan the floor until they landed on Sasuke, who was seated at one of the tables with his girlfriend, Hinata. They were leaned in close, Hinata's cheeks flushed a pretty pink as they apparently engaged in quiet conversation.

It was almost funny, really. All his life, Itachi had been praised for his dignified character and told that he would be the most successful member of his family, yet it was his unpredictable cousin and moody younger brother that had both managed to end up with respectable women while he himself was preoccupied with thoughts of the volatile blond man he had fist fought and then nearly slept with the night before.

If he were the type, Itachi might have laughed at the irony of it all.

He was so lost in thought that he hadn't noticed that Shisui had left the dance floor and was now right behind him, holding a glass of wine in each hand. It was only when he felt a nudge on his shoulder did he turn to face the man with a look of feigned contentedness.

"It's a wedding," Shisui said, a good-natured smile on his face as he handed one of the glasses to Itachi. His cousin obviously wasn't fooled by his façade. "You should try to enjoy yourself more, all right?"

He gave Itachi a reassuring pat on the shoulder before returning to his bride, leaving Itachi to look at the wine glass contemplatively. He had never been one for drinking, but the thought of getting completely inebriated did have its appeal at that moment if it would help him stop thinking.

However, as he was assaulted with the still-fresh memories of his fist connecting with Deidara's face and demanding lips against his own, he wrinkled his nose and set the glass aside, sliding it down the table as far as his arm could reach.

Itachi had lost enough control lately. He had no desire to lose any more.

* * *

At last, it was time to return home, Itachi thought the following morning as he closed to door of the hotel room. Sasuke and Hinata wouldn't be leaving for another several hours, and Itachi, being the early riser he was, had decided to leave long before them.

Truth be told, he was eager to get back home and catch up on sleep before returning to normalcy. The last couple of days had been far from average, needless to say, which was yet another effect Deidara seemed to have on his life.

At this rate, he was going to have to make a _list_ of ways the blond threw his life off track.

As Itachi approached his car, he noticed something peculiar about the passenger seat—namely, that there was a very familiar figure was slouched in it, his feet up on the dashboard and sketchpad resting against one lean thigh.

Itachi stared, momentarily at a loss of what to think. After several seconds of incoherence, the first thought that came to his mind was the highly eloquent, _He's back_.

(The second was the question of how Deidara was able to get into his vehicle in the first place, but he quickly came to the most logical conclusion: This was Deidara. Of course he would know how to pick a lock.)

Itachi's face betrayed none of his inner musings, however. He simply deposited his luggage in the trunk before walking around to the driver side door, where he only hesitated for a moment before finally unlocking it and sliding into the driver's seat.

Deidara said nothing upon his entrance. In fact, he didn't even acknowledge Itachi at all, which was definitely a first for him.

The only noise that filled the space between them was the sound of pencil scratching against paper. For once, it was a silence that wasn't riddled with tension or the knowledge that it was just a matter of time before another insult was hurled at him. In fact, one could say that it was almost tranquil between them.

Truth be told, Itachi would have given anything for the former at the moment. Fits he knew how to deal with, but this was not something he was used to.

The two sat in silence for several more minutes before Itachi finally decided to risk taking a glance at Deidara, who appeared to be deeply engrossed in his work. Tanned fingers made quick, expert strokes across the page, and he looked more concentrated than Itachi had ever seen him. It was odd, really. Considering Deidara's volatile temperament, drawing seemed a rather unfitting hobby for him to have.

He was talented, though. Itachi had to give him that. His eyes flicked over the page on which Deidara was working, silently assessing the scene in front of him. The style was more abstract, but he was able to recognize the shapes of two vehicles—a sleek black limousine and a beat-up yellow Beetle—that had apparently had a nasty collision with each other.

Itachi had never bothered looking for deeper meanings within art before, but as he stared at the piece, he felt he understood the message completely.

"Is there anywhere in particular you would like to go?" Itachi finally asked, breaking the almost eerie silence between them.

Deidara looked up for the first time since Itachi's arrival, obviously displeased that he'd been interrupted. Their eyes met, and Itachi found himself searching their azure depths for some kind of understanding. Deidara's eyes had always been like an open book with missing lines: Itachi could always see what was under the surface, but never _why_.

Even as he looked now, it was the same. Perhaps he would never understand Deidara completely. Perhaps they were doomed to continue driving in circles around each other until they finally crashed, again and again. Just like the picture.

Just like they always had.

"It doesn't matter to me," Deidara replied at last, holding Itachi's gaze a moment longer before turning back to his work. "I'll just go wherever you're headed, yeah."

Itachi turned away several seconds after Deidara, nodding in understanding before shifting into reverse.

Perhaps they _were_ doomed to repeat the same cycles with each other, he mused as he pulled out of the hotel parking lot. Or perhaps...

Perhaps it would simply take time to learn new paths.

On a whim, Itachi decided to drive right past his desired exit.

He was taking a different road home this time.


End file.
